


My Blood

by oli_vore



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:26:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oli_vore/pseuds/oli_vore
Summary: These haunting memories from Hydra have been tormenting Bucky for too long…





	My Blood

Bucky gently pressed a palm against the glass doors of the stark tower leading to the balcony. 

The thick night air brushed against his face and swirled around his body. The cool concrete pricked at his feet as he took a couple steps out onto the balcony and let himself relax again the railing. Bucky leaned over the glass barrier to gauge how far the fall would be. Vertigo settled in the bottom of his stomach at a thought. compelled by morbid curiosity, he closed his eyes and pictured the image of his body lying bloody and bruised on the concrete below.

He leaned his cheek against his damned metal palm with a sigh, An unsettling calm washed over him, absentmindedly brushing at the drying tear tracks on his cheeks. Bucky relished in the feeling of the clouds emptying his mind, forcing his intrusive thoughts to burrow their way back into his subconscious. He stood, for a considerable amount of time, long enough for his legs to shiver as his body reacted to the chilly breeze. Bucky slipped back inside and was careful to limit the noise he created in fear of waking anyone. 

The brunette man faced into his room, vision blurring as tears pooled in his eyes. He pressed a metal palm against his mouth to muffle any choked sob that might try to escape. clumsily, he slid to the floor pressing his spine onto the cool glass sliding door behind him. He brought his knees to his chest as he buried his forehead into his knees. It had been a while since he’d let himself cry, really cry, since it had been forced down so often. he sucked in spastic breaths through the metal fingers as he curled into himself further. Nausea coiled in his stomach, It overtook any rational thought as he lay there sobbing. His throat painfully strained as he held back another wave of sobs. He blinked once, weakly forcing the palms of his hands into the sockets of his eyes as he attempted to dislodge the unwanted imagery of Hydra’s abuse flashing through his mind. He raised a shaking arm to push himself up into a sitting position. After what would usually be considered an “unnecessary amount of time” Bucky had forced himself to stand on wobbly feet. 

He stumbled into the kitchen looking for a drink to quell the aching pain in his throat, not bothering to turn on the light. He opened a cupboard and pulled out a clean glass, and placed it on the counter. Bucky had vaguely registered that he was breathing just a little too fast to be considered calm. He silently begged his body to stop crying, to do anything to feel less pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. His mind raced with different options, all of which seeming grim. He harshly pulled open a cupboard.

This wasn’t a good idea, but it was all he could do. A few stray spoons and a pair of chopsticks he didn’t know why he owned rolled haphazardly around in the open drawer. Bucky paid them no mind as he blindly let his fingers scramble around for what he was looking for. A thought that had been cramming itself into his head for a few months seeped into his thoughts, and his mind quickly fixated on the idea. It wasn’t a new though, albeit selfish, and unbecoming, but the red flags that generally stopped his cruel mind didn’t appear to try and stop him. He slowly cradled fluting knife to his chest, muscles screaming at him as they strained and lowered him to the floor. His good memories of past girlfriends and his desires and Steve surfacing to try and offer him a lifeline. His fingers were tightening around the knife, a twinge of uncertainty bloomed in his stomach. He hesitated. He sighed, his brows furrowing, as he used the minuscule amount of brain power he had left to consider the consequences.

But, Nothing.

He couldn’t see a downside to this, even as his body begged him to drop the knife, to go to bed and sleep away the feeling. He rolled his right sleeve up to his elbow, mesmerized by the sight of pale blue-purple veins on his inner wrist. He aligned the silver blade above them. The points of the knife pushing into his unmarked, white skin as he wrenched his eyes shut.

He had only ever done this to his legs before. 

Adrenaline pulsed through his system, his grip tightening as he jerked the blade in a quick fashion downwards. Broken skin stung around the already bleeding cut. It hurt, but it wasn’t ever enough. A few red beads finally spilled over the edges, still before his arm tilted leaving him to watch them smear down the pale canvas. Clenching his teeth, Bucky settled the blade a couple inches closer to his wrist and tightly shut his eyes. This was it.

Taking in a sharp breath, he dug the blade’s edge into his skin before pulling it across his wrist. His breath hitched when his eyes popped open, the ragged skin torn and bloody. Letting his legs slide out so they were sitting in front of him, he brought the blade to his scarred thigh. He put all the pressure he could into forcing the metal in his flesh before brutally gutting his left thigh. Bucky’s eyes watched this time, a dirty, disgusting fascination fogging up his head as he watched his blood spill out of himself. He gravitated to the floor beneath him. He laid down with a soft thud as his head hit the floor. 

What felt like months passed as he waited to sleep. He noticed himself developing more and more lightheaded, a painful migraine shredding his mind to bits, trying to tell him something was wrong. But nothing was wrong, he wants this. The exhaustive blanket wrapped around him keeping him warm, allowing him to slip into a comforting rest. He felt the blade slide out of his slick fingers, heard it tumble to the floor and make a clanging noise. 

Drained of vigor and now blood, he eventually caved to the lulling sleep beckoning him. His tired, hooded eyes became fuzzier, and shut in the cold dim room around him.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry


End file.
